


Giving Back

by bamcrashkapow



Category: Blackwell Series (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blackwell Epiphany, Gen, POV Third Person Omniscient, Short One Shot, Spoilers, i just didn't want to be sad anymore ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 17:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11318634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamcrashkapow/pseuds/bamcrashkapow
Summary: Outside Grace Church, Joey takes in what has happened to him - What Rosa has given him. When he realizes the cost, however, he's desperate for any possibility of giving it back. Luckily for him, fate can be malleable, especially with the unfathomable powers of the Universe involved.Alternate ending to Blackwell Epiphany





	Giving Back

**Author's Note:**

> Rewrite for the end of Blackwell Epiphany. I don't think the series should have ended differently - I just have a hard time accepting it. Isn't that what fanfiction is for? ;) Anyway, it was just a little idea I'd penned down, maybe setting the stage for something bigger with actual plot and such. Hope you enjoy it anyway and it fills the gaping hole that Dave Gilbert tore in your heart <3  
> (In all seriousness, love you and your games, Dave)

One second, he wasn’t breathing. Then - CRACK.  
  
Joey didn’t know what hit him. It was just a flash of white light, and suddenly he was falling. Falling? He groaned as his knees painfully hit the pavement, followed by, well, the rest. The snow was unpleasantly cold on his face. Wait. Cold? Pain? Was he-? As he rose, Joey stole a look at his hands and arms. He wasn’t glowing anymore, wasn’t translucent, wasn’t _blue_. “What the-? What did you…? _How--?”_  
  
Wait. No.  
  
_Red!_  
  
Joey’s head snapped up to take in the still form on the stairs of the church. “Red? Sweetheart?” he called softly as he stepped forward. No, no, no. “Rosa?” he tried again, even softer this time, his hope quickly fading that this insane turn of events included her recovery. Slowly, he walked to stand before her, staring at her as if she’d jump up and surprise him. No, she wasn’t struck with this same miracle - she created it, gave it to him with her last breath. “Why the hell did you do this?” Joey could feel his heart pounding too hard, his stomach clenching too tightly. This was… This couldn’t be real. Before thinking about it, he ripped off his tie and held it out to her, bending down slightly to let one end rest in her open hand. He needed her to grab it, grab their only link for the last five years and prove him wrong. _Please_. “Here. Go on, take it,” he urged desperately. “Take it! Just…!”  
  
He was shaking. Had he always felt so much when he was alive? Had everything been so raw, so charged, so painful? He almost felt as though he was humming with energy, with life… which just wasn’t fair, since she was supposed to be the one with life. Not him. He had his chance and spent it already, hers was just starting and she was _making a difference_ \- it just wasn’t fair. Joey collapsed to his knees next to her, dropping the tie to cradle her head and upper body in his arms. Maybe he could jostle her awake, maybe she was unconscious, and he could just…  
  
Unsurprisingly, she was limp in his arms even as he gently shook her, her lips parted with no air escaping out of it into the winter night and head lolling from side to side. Goddamnit, why wasn’t there something that could stop this, why couldn’t he undo this? Screwing up his face to fight the tears he felt coming (since when did he cry? He didn’t even cry before he died - men just didn’t cry, it wasn’t a thing. Everything just felt like too much to him, too much to take in...), he clutched her close and looked down at her peaceful expression. Even when she used to pass out taking spooks to the other side, she never looked quite this calm. There was always a hint of whatever expression she’d just been wearing before entering the void. Now it was just… blank. Nothing. Trembling, Joey reached out a hand to cup her cheek for the first - and last, he supposed - time.  
  
The moment their skin made contact, another flash lit up between them with a near-deafening CRACK. Pain shot through Joey’s hand, arm, chest, into his core - was he dying again? Did he manage to give his life back? - and then as quickly it came, it was gone. He wasn’t shaking anymore, his heart was no longer pounding, his stomach was no longer twisted up to the point of nausea… he felt _calmer_ , somehow. “What the hell?” he couldn’t help but utter, looking at his hand and all around to figure out what had caused the second lightning strike.  
  
Something shifted in his arms.  
  
Joey froze, too scared to look down out of the fear that he’d imagined it. But no, there it was again, a shudder and a small groan of pain. Snapping his head to gape at her, Joey saw Rosa’s brow furrow and lips purse before her eyes opened and studied him in a daze.  
  
“Wha…?” she started, but Joey didn’t give her the chance. He pulled her close into a back-breaking squeeze, face disappearing into her wild red hair. He didn’t know what happened. He didn’t know how or why either, and right now he didn’t care. _She was alive_. And somehow, he was too.  
  
“Rosa, thank god,” he breathed, clutching at her like she’d vanish at any second.  
  
“...Dad?” Rosa asked, weakly moving her hands to try and return the hug. Why was she so tired all of sudden? She had seen him and Mom so clearly in front of her a moment ago. And why did her dad kind of sound like…?  
  
Joey froze, guilt creeping into his mental celebration. He cleared his throat and attempted to clarify, but she was speaking again before he could find his words. “Why do I feel so crappy?” she asked airily. Hesitantly, he began letting go and pulling away, still holding her upright but nearly at arm’s length now. She squinted at him, her glasses lying somewhere in the snow nearby. “Ugh, you’d think dying might fix my eyesight, at least,” she grumbled softly, and Joey couldn’t help but smile at the Rosa he knew shining through the grogginess.  
  
“I may call you ‘kid,’ but I sure as hell ain’t your dad,” Joey finally said, trying to keep all the conflicting emotions out of his voice. Relief. Guilt. Bewilderment. Excitement. The traces of anguish still sloughing off in bits, as if a part of him didn’t believe that Rosa’s revival was real. No reason to dwell on those or throw those on her. Her face screwed up more in confusion and she tried to look closer. She had thought he sounded familiar, but was it actually him?  
  
_“Joey?”_ She blinked slowly, taking in the blur that was his face. Light olive skin and brown hair? So that meant… “It worked?”  
  
“Yeah, sure, ‘it’ worked,” Joey confirmed. “I can’t say I understand what ‘it’ was or how you did it, but I’m alive, Red, you brought me back to _life_ -!”  
  
“But then I should be dead,” Rosa stated bluntly, cutting him off. “I was dying. I was in so much pain. Am I… am I a ghost now?” That couldn’t be right. She was on the ground, she could feel the pavement, the cold air, and Joey’s warm hands still gripping her shoulders tightly - huh, that was a weird thought, _feeling_ Joey’s hands. But ghosts were so often in denial after passing away, maybe this was her mind’s way of coping, filling in the details of what _should_ be there...  
  
“No, you’re no spook,” Joey assured her, giving her a brief squeeze. “You’re alive, same as me. You must’ve done something to save yourself too.”  
  
“But I didn’t. I knew what I was doing. I shouldn’t be alive, Joey. I died. I remember it vividly.” Her assertions became more firm as her grogginess lifted. Rosa groped blindly in the snow for her glasses as she spoke, unconsciously wiping the lenses on her coat to clean them before putting them back on. She wasn’t trying to argue the point as much as she inadvertently was, but this was all just so _confusing_. She couldn’t figure it out. Especially without the knowledge of the Universe informing her of how everything worked… Wait. The Universe, it had been uncontrollably pouring into her mind, but it wasn’t anymore! Her head didn’t feel like it was splitting, she didn’t feel like she was drowning; she didn’t have the answers at her fingertips and there were holes in her logic. And she was, well, alive. Did that mean… she had _stopped_ it somehow?  
  
“Look, I don’t know what happened, I told you that,” Joey shot back, his tone a bit annoyed. Why was she making such a fuss about this? Did she want to be dead? A small part of him realized that maybe she did, she had said something about seeing her parents before she… collapsed, and she had called him “dad” when she woke up. The poor kid was probably torn right out of her family reunion, just to be stuck here with him. _Deal with it later, Mallone,_ he chided himself, trying to stay focused on the current situation as opposed to a hypothetical. “Frankly I’m surprised you’re not still spouting off all the answers, eyes glowing like something out of a bad horror movie…”  
  
“That’s the thing, Joey,” Rosa said, eyes widening in realization. “It’s gone. The Universe, it’s not there anymore. It’s not overwhelming me. It’s like… It’s like the hole it was pouring through got plugged up.”  
  
“You mean, the portal?” Joey slowed down his rebuttal to consider this. “The portal itself is… what, closed, or something?”  
  
“I don’t know, maybe. But how? What happened, after I died? What did you do?”  
  
“Hey, _I_ wasn’t the one messing with power beyond my understanding, I didn’t do squat.”  
  
“I’m just _asking_ , no need to get so defensive. I’m trying to figure this out.”  
  
“Well, whatever. That’s not important right now. We can get to the bottom of this later. For now, we need to get you home, warm you up - you’re like a popsicle, you’re gonna get hypothermia or something. Don’t need you dying twice in one day. Can you stand?” Joey was already moving to help her, but Rosa pushed him away.  
  
“Yeah, I can do it,” she muttered stubbornly, slowly rising and standing upright… Only for her right knee to give out and crumple beneath her as soon as she tried shifting weight to it. Joey had been ready; he caught her on her descent, slinging her arm around his neck and propping her up to lean on him for support.  
  
“Don’t worry, I gotcha. I’ll get you home,” he murmured softly. She glowered at him but said nothing, begrudgingly accepting his help - for now.  
  
A few silent moments and slow steps passed before she spoke up again. “So… _‘Rosa’_ , huh?” she inquired with a smirk.  
  
“What, you expected me to not know your name after all this time? I was dead, not stupid,” Joey retorted quickly in an attempt to cover up his slip from earlier. He didn’t think she’d heard him… He’d better fix that before she gets too confident. After all, he had a reputation to uphold - even if it was only to her. Stopping briefly to pick up his hat, Joey continued, “If it bugs you so much, I’ll stick with Red. Or darling, or kid…”  
  
“Okay, okay, I’m not saying it bothered me, I was just teasing you-!”  
  
“Dollface, sweetheart…”  
  
“I get it, you’ve got a whole arsenal of sexist pet names at your disposal-”  
  
“Princess, babe… oh, sorry, were you saying something, pumpkin?”  
  
“Ugh. Nevermind.”

\-----

Rosa suppressed another shiver as she clutched the blankets around her shoulders closer. She was so tired, and so cold. Some of her strength had returned during their slow march back to her apartment, but every time she told Joey that she didn’t need help, he argued the point until she gave up. _‘We’ve still got a long ways to go, Red. Save your energy.’ ‘You’re shaking like a leaf. I’d rather you keep warm and not push yourself.’ ‘Bully for you. Want a medal for being so reckless, or will pneumonia suffice?’ ‘You just died, kid. Take it easy for once.’_ Usually by the time they were done bickering, she’d be exhausted again, and before long they had made it through her front door. Maybe he had been right about conserving her strength... She’d better not let him know that. She wouldn’t hear the end of it for a month.  
  
With a sigh, she turned to watch Joey’s back at the stove. He was taking the kettle off the burner to make tea for her - she told him he didn’t need to, but he insisted once more on “taking care of her” or whatever. It had been somewhat amusing to watch him fumble with everything; he assured her (or maybe himself) the whole time that he’d seen enough to know how these things worked, and that they couldn’t be much different than they used to be when he was alive, but every step of the way he found some modern aspect he took issue with. She had to spend a long time convincing him that her ceramic-top stove did in fact work as well as a gas stove, which passed enough time for her side of the argument to be proved by the whistle of the kettle.  
  
Arguing with Joey was the only thing that felt normal. Rosa knew that reviving him would change everything - she just didn’t think she’d be here to experience it. She had been aware that bringing a spirit back to life was possible since they were on the roof of the church with Madeline: The deranged, banished spirit guide had challenged her to offer an alternative to end her suffering than the obliteration of all of New York City, and the Universe had instantly supplied the answer - but the act would kill her, and it wouldn’t stop the rift anyway. But even then, she knew she wasn’t leaving the church alive, so she didn’t stop to ponder what Joey would be like as a physical person, in her apartment, cursing and burning his hand on the kettle, bringing her tea. Of all the things he could have done, his first acts in his new life...and he made her tea. It didn’t seem right. She’d given him life so he could do something for _himself_ instead of existing to help everyone else. How had this happened? How had she survived?  
  
Joey found it easier if he didn’t think too hard on his situation and spent his time thinking about Red’s. He didn’t know what to do now that he was alive - the very thought of rejoining society was rather overwhelming. But he knew Red, knew how to help her, and now he actually _could_ help. Just floating around and watching had always made him feel so useless. It was nice to be involved for once. So that’s what he did, no matter how much she argued. Helping her was the only way he could keep from thinking too much; so when he placed the mug of tea in front of her and she just sat there, staring at it, he started feeling antsy - agitated, even. He scowled, waiting for her to snap out of it, and when she didn’t he snarked, “What, did it insult you or something?” He didn’t mean for it to sound quite so jagged, but if it bothered Rosa she didn’t show it. Her gaze snapped directly to him when he spoke, burning with intensity he knew all too well: That was the exact look she had when they were in the middle of a case and she was trying to pull everything she knew into one cohesive series of events. She was still trying to figure it out.  
  
“What happened after I died?” she asked again, trying to hide another shiver. He didn’t miss it - for fifty years, all he could do was watch, so he made damn sure he could do it well and pick up on subtle clues in body language. He shook his head slightly and said nothing, instead moving to find another blanket. “Joey,” she pushed as he turned his back to her, “I’m serious.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter right now, you need to focus on warming up.” Joey didn’t look back as he spoke. Didn’t she have anything else out here? It was the middle of winter in New York, for Pete’s sake. Nevermind that she already had two wrapped around her now and another across her legs. He just needed something, anything to keep his mind off of what happened to her, to him, what it all _was_ and _meant_. The past several hours had been so intense and terrifying and heart-wrenching - and for the first time, Joey could feel the full impact of the events around him and his own emotions. It was too much, and he didn’t know how to control it, at least not yet.  
  
“It’s going to take time, and it’s just discussion. I’m not trying to do anything strenuous,” Rosa argued. She felt more capable of taking on Joey’s obstinate attitude now that she wasn’t moving - and after she took a sip, she admitted that the tea gave her a little more energy. Why was he pushing away from this so much? Was he hiding something from her? Wouldn’t be the first time. He always dodged the truth by urging that they keep investigating, keep moving, keep helping spirits, keep working… But now there was no more work. He was trying to evade questioning and _failing_ , for once. It was an interesting sight to say the least. “Stop treating me like I’m helpless and start talking. What did you do after I died?”  
  
“Okay, okay. Fine.” Joey shook his head, trying to clear it some. Too many thoughts and emotions were running through him, clouding his judgement. Everything seemed so much harder to process now that he was alive - had being dead left him that cold and calculating? He wasn’t going to miss much about his life as a spook, but that was something he wished he could keep. Logic was comforting; emotions were frightening. “I didn’t do much. I… woke up, I guess, and I came over to you, to see if you were really, you know… gone. And you were. But then suddenly, you weren’t.” He thought for a moment and added, “There was a bolt of lightning, like the first time when it hit me and made me… this.”  
  
“So it just struck randomly? Or did it come from me again?”  
  
“I don’t think so, no.” Joey’s frown deepened, thinking harder on how he felt at that moment. Something had left him. It was like he was super charged before, and then… “I think it came from me. I think I gave back some of the whatever the hell it was, _life_ or whatever, that you gave me.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“I… don’t know.”  
  
The two stared at each other for a moment, mulling this over. A wall. After all that arguing, they’d hit a wall, with no leads to follow in another direction. Rosa dropped her gaze to her tea and traced a pattern on the ceramic with her fingertip.  
  
“I guess we’ll never know, now,” she said simply with a shrug. “We’re both just normal people. It’s not like we have anyone to ask.”  
  
“There has to be a way,” Joey growled, pacing out of the kitchen into the living room. He wasn’t letting the trail grow cold _that_ easily, if she was forcing him to talk about this and deal with the turmoil in his head. “We can find another medium and their spirit guide, they might have some answers. I’m thinking more and more that I was the only one left out of the loop, so they might understand about the void and the universe and whatever else....”  
  
“There are no more spirit guides,” Rosa pointed out solemnly. “I saved them all. Every single ghost. There’s literally _no one_ to ask. No way to investigate this further.” She felt oddly detached about her actions to save New York City and sacrifice her own life, almost as if someone else had done it; as if the Universe had been working through her to bring an end to all the suffering unseen by most of the world… Except for Joey’s, she remembered bitterly. Why hadn’t Joey been able to go through the portal? Maybe according to the Universe, he was supposed to stay for the next Bestower, to be a spirit guide forever like he’d said. Or maybe _this_ was the Universe’s plan, and that’s why they couldn’t make sense of it. If he had been able to cross over, he wouldn’t be alive right now… and neither would she. Maybe after killing her, the Universe had saved her through not saving Joey.  
  
Frustrated, Joey shoved his hands deep into his pockets and dropped his head back to look at the ceiling. He didn’t like loose ends and leaving things unresolved. After spending the last fifty years helping spooks put together their stories and searching down every avenue for answers, he needed closure. But maybe that was the difference between the living and the dead: Being dead was final, all doors were closed, everything had a cut and dry reason. It was much more simple than trying to be alive and solve everything; there were too many variables and still-moving parts.  
  
Without any more spirits or any way to talk to them, they were stuck. Just two very normal people in a tiny apartment without a direction.  
  
“So... what do we do?” He looked over his shoulder at Rosangela. She considered his question for a moment, then smiled as an idea dawned on her. If they were going to be impeded by being ‘normal’ people, they might as well reap the benefits too.  
  
“Still want to go see a movie?”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this sporadically at work when I needed a break and have edited it to be as cohesive as I can, but certain areas might still be choppy or have tones of something I later edited out. I'll go over it again at some point, and if it's really bad I'll make edits accordingly. Let me know!


End file.
